


Cataclysm:DDA - Word Prompts

by Ink_Shadow



Category: Cataclysm: Dark Days Ahead (Video Game), Original Work
Genre: Aliens, Blood, Bugs & Insects, Cults, Dinosaurs, Explicit Language, Gen, Gore, Injury, Machines, Magic, Mutants, Mutation, Post-Apocalypse, Religion, Survival, Violence, Zombies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 09:54:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 24
Words: 8,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28776402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ink_Shadow/pseuds/Ink_Shadow
Summary: A small collection of stories loosely based on my experiences playing Cataclysm: Dark Days Ahead.*Spoiler Alert: Contains Minor Spoilers! You've Been Warned!*(May randomly add more chapters.)Edit: Capitalized the event in each header and the chapters.Edit 2: Em dash, en dash, and hyphen dilemma. Apparently, I cannot insert en dashes; they are counted as hyphens.





	1. Supplies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When the Cataclysm swept across the globe and consumed the world in a span of five days, I was one of the few that were fortunate enough to survive.
> 
> These are some of my tales.

I secured an old rural house on the outskirts of town. It's in very good shape, but is lacking in supplies. Seems almost everything had packed before whoever lived here had evacuated.

There are a few scraps of food on the shelves in the back, a TV on the table, and a dead battery in the trash. Needless to say, I'll have to run to town find some essentials if I plan on living here.

Traversing the darkness of the night proves terrifying in the least. I don't want to make any noise for fear of the undead being drawn to me. My footfalls sound loud to my ears and I keep flinching at the groans I hear in the distance.

Robbing houses and stores isn't in my nature, but I saw no other way around it than to break the law in order to survive.

I'm thankful to those who forgot to close their windows, or lock their doors. It made breaking in far easier and quicker and safer than the alternative. I'm also thankful for the wide variety of books in the homes I'm raiding. A little practice and the right materials, and I could probably be a professional chef, or mechanical engineer, or even an electrician before long.

Not to mention the assortment of other goodies lying about the individual rooms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After re-reading the twenty-one chapters I've written, it's come to my attention that this story isn't _quite_ Teen anymore. So I've upped the rating to Mature (Though I'm sure it's probably more likely Explicit), and added some suitable tags.
> 
> I also re-wrote this chapter to make it more in the present-tense.
> 
> Enjoy!


	2. Patrol

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When the Cataclysm swept across the globe and consumed the world in a span of five days, I was one of the few that were fortunate enough to survive.
> 
> These are some of my tales.

Survival is a constant goal that can be broken down into multiple tiny goals. A list, if one will, comprised of daily tasks that—when completed as a whole—equal the survival of another day and night.

A daily walk around the perimeter after waking and before sleeping is an important, yet dull task. However, if one wants to ensure their continued safety, then one needs to do this. Every. Single. Day.

At first I was always on high alert. Patrolling the house every time I so much as stepped outside for a breath of fresh air. I felt paranoid and ready to stab anything and everything with my chef's knife that I swiped from my original home before the apocalypse.

As time wore on, I learned to relax more while still maintaining a sense of awareness for my surroundings. Having a loaded handgun on me (a lucky find in a gun enthusiast's house) helped as well as having a sturdy spear.

Living a few miles away from what's left of civilization means less encounters with the undead. But, every once in a great while I cross paths with a rogue zombie that must be dealt with; swiftly and silently. Other than that, it's very quiet here.


	3. Hair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When the Cataclysm swept across the globe and consumed the world in a span of five days, I was one of the few that were fortunate enough to survive.
> 
> These are some of my tales.

With the chill still lingering in the air, I thought it a good idea to leave my hair down to help block in the warmth. I just didn't take into account this new situation Armageddon presents. Namely: corpses that have a tendency to grab things.

Like limbs. And clothes. And hair.

I climb out of the bedroom window with a backpack full of clothes. If I ever survive the cool temperature I'll have something to wear for the heat of the summer climate. I also found an electric blanket!

I creep past the back–end of the houses I had previously skipped over as they were locked. I take the same route back to the rural house I had taken to get into town. As I step past the corner of the last building a hand shoots out and catches hold of my pack.

I bite back a surprised yelp and drop the bedspread on the grass. I jerk forward, breaking free of the copses' grasp, and evade its bite. I hastily fish my knife from the confines of my rucksack and toss the bag to the ground. Apparently I wasn't quick enough as the rotting stiff seized me again.

Its hand had, of course, found purchase in my hair.

I instinctively bring my arm up to shield my throat. I wince and swear under my breath at the feel of its teeth sinking into my flesh. I shove it back freeing my arm, then kick the zombies' legs out from beneath it. The putrid–smelling humanoid released me and crashed to the hard earth below. I follow the infected creature down, pinning it, and stab it multiple times until it stops moving.

I hull myself to my feet and immediately make to retrieve my backpack. I dig through the front pocket, pulling out a container of peroxide and some clean bandages. I roll up my sleeve, then flush the wound with the antiseptic liquid and wrap it up snug with the soft fabric, tying it in place.

"Bastard." I grumble at the motionless corpse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I re-wrote this chapter to fit in with the world of Cataclysm. I still have the original version, but I think this sounds better.
> 
> It also helps obscure the characters' gender. I've always wanted to write a nameless, and genderless, character before. And this is perfect for that!
> 
> If you notice any other chapters changing, then it's because I just suddenly felt like re-writing them.


	4. Clean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When the Cataclysm swept across the globe and consumed the world in a span of five days, I was one of the few that were fortunate enough to survive.
> 
> These are some of my tales.

Let's face it: things are gonna get dirty in the apocalypse. Clothes will get dirty. Weapons will get dirty. Food will get dirty. Even injuries will get dirty.

Clothes and weapons and tools are the easier ones to clean. A little bit of soap and elbow grease and they're good to go. Food is best thrown out as fertilizer; and injuries? Injuries should be cleaned ASAP.

I've had the misfortune of being grabbed and bit at one point or another. Media has informed us during the second or third day of the initial Cataclysm, that these bites can and will prove fatal if left untreated. Then again, most bites from any number of creatures _do_ prove fatal if neglected for too long.

Hydrogen peroxide isn't as effective as medical grade antiseptic cleansers, but are a more common find. I've easily found a decent amount among various home bathrooms, and sometimes in basements as well.

It stings like an angry hornet when applied and leaves one with a burning sensation that lingers quite a while afterwards. Make sure to bandage the wound after purifying it to prevent other contaminants from soiling the injury. Then just give it the time it needs to heal up.


	5. Valuable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When the Cataclysm swept across the globe and consumed the world in a span of five days, I was one of the few that were fortunate enough to survive.
> 
> These are some of my tales.

Things of value change with each individual and their situation. Before the Cataclysm happened, money was considered extremely valuable. Now it is a great way to take memos, or start a fire. Don't get me wrong; fire is a very valuable commodity in the apocalypse.

Jewelry was also valuable.

While it might not be as treasured as food, or water, or a good weapon, it is still a nice reminder of what once was.

Yesterday, a corpse I had looted (however despicable) had a rare treasure strung around her decayed neck. It was a pearl collar. It was covered in blood and a little damaged, but if I could clean it up I'm sure it would still look beautiful; magnificent even.

I carefully extracted the precious little beads from around her neck. A bit of worry coursed through me when one of the pearls broke off the string revealing an unsightly gap. Unfortunately, nothing can be done about that. I wrapped the fragile necklace in a spare rag I kept with me and pocketed it.

It wasn't until today that I had enough free time to thoroughly clean my newly acquired treasure. And I was _very_ meticulous about it. When handling such a high valued item, it is only natural to be conscientious about the work involved.

The damage is grand; there are no two ways about it. But, I think it looks simply wonderful. The way each pearl shines in the sun's rays. Even battered, it still holds its beauty. The scars merely tell of its harsh journey.

I placed the collar on the shelf in the bedroom. It sat next to a jade brooch I had found on someone else. Both priceless treasures despite their slight disfigurement.


	6. Clothes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When the Cataclysm swept across the globe and consumed the world in a span of five days, I was one of the few that were fortunate enough to survive.
> 
> These are some of my tales.

I've learned many new things during my time spent surviving. A lot of which turns my stomach, but is quite necessary if I wish to stay alive. Others are pretty neat to just learn and have on hand (blacksmithing is an awesome skill to learn in my opinion!).

There is one proficiency that stands out more than others, and that is tailoring.

I never saw myself as a seamer, or someone with any talent for sewing in general. But living in the apocalypse has taught me a great many tricks involving various garments. Not just repairing holes and tears: but how to reinforce the material, and to even make my own clothes from the patterns found in books.

I never realized how much thought and effort went into handmade apparel before. It has given me a newfound appreciation for couturiers.

Finding extra material isn't difficult either, in fact; spare fabric is rather abundant. Although… Retrieving it still makes me feel a little queasy.


	7. Alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When the Cataclysm swept across the globe and consumed the world in a span of five days, I was one of the few that were fortunate enough to survive.
> 
> These are some of my tales.

It happened on Monday.

I awoke early and took a brisk look around the perimeter for any danger that might have wandered near. The early hours were a little dark, but the sky is clear and the moon is still visible, giving off just enough light. After deeming the place secure, I headed back inside and cooked up some breakfast.

There is something I've be wanting to make for a while now, and I've finally gotten all the components that I need. So, I set about opening the curtains to let in the sunlight soon to make its appearance and grabbed the sewing kit off the table. I also took a few items from the longer table just below the front room windows.

I propped my spear up next the armchair at the end of the long table and settled down on the comfy furniture to work. I organized the material I'll be using first before threading the needle and starting the project.

It was nearly noon when the unexpected decided to greet me in a rather brusque way.

"DROP YOUR FUCKING WEAPON!"

Immediately, I look up to see a young man about my age standing on the long table, pointing an assault rifle at me. I was apparently too focused on my craft to hear him open one of the windows.

I pause as his words register in my mind and I drop my gaze to the needle and panel of fabric I'm holding. The bright blue strand of thread is a stark contrast to the orange plastic of the potato chip bag I've been sewing to the cloth.

I give him a flat look. _'The hell does he think I'm gonna do!? Leap across the room and poke his eyes out?'_

My new guest glances down as well, then flicks his eyes back up to me, the atmoshpere suddenly more awkward as he realizes what my 'weapon' is.

"Relax," I tell him. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"Uh…" His eyes dart to the left and right, then back to me. "Y-yeah. Sure." And with a nervous chuckle, he lowers his gun.

"Is the anything I can do for?"

His expression contorts into one of perplexion and his jaw drops just slightly. I'm fairly certain his thoughts are something like, _'Are you fucking serious!? I threaten to kill you and you want to help me!?'_. It took him a second or two to collect himself before he shook his head and responded.

"Yeah. Yeah, I mean sure, I got a job for you if you're interested." He hopped down off the table and took a step closer.

"Tell me about it."

"Could you find me a patient list from the regional hospital or doctor's office? I lost so many friends because of the Cataclysm… I just want to know who might still be out there."

I nod, "I'll do it."

"You'll help?"

"Of course."

I set my sewing aside and move to the nearby bookcase. I thumb across the spines of the books to a small stack of papers and remove them. The man quirks an eyebrow as I hand him the sheets of paper.

"What's your name?" I ask, as he takes the patient treatment records I found in a clinic. He skims over the names on the pages first.

"Matt. Uh, Matthew Saint Patrick."

"Care to team up?"

Matthew stares at treatment records for a moment longer.

"…Sure. Why not? At least I won't be alone anymore."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is far more hilarious in-game.
> 
> Yes, Matt, hopped in through a window and stuck a gun in my face, demanding I drop my weapon or else. Yes, I was making a longarm bag at the time and didn't notice him until the dialogue box popped up. And yes, he did give me this mission that I already had the quest item for.
> 
> The main difference is that I asked him to join _before_ I gave him the list. I also swiped all his stuff: his gun (fully loaded too), his food (only had a burger), and even his clothes. Didn't leave him a thing.
> 
> I then proceeded to ignore him for over a month. Payback for nearly bringing my run to a sudden end.
> 
> And for the Longarm Bag: It does require plastic bags; four of them.
> 
> One was a potato chip bag, two were nuts (cashew and something else, I can't remember), and one I can only list as generic (I found it in a trashcan).


	8. Blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When the Cataclysm swept across the globe and consumed the world in a span of five days, I was one of the few that were fortunate enough to survive.
> 
> These are some of my tales.

Fighting and killing go almost hand in hand with the way I strive to achieve survival. Don't get me wrong; I don't go out looking to hunt down every zed I see. I do not enjoy killing things, _or_ mangling them.

But these zombies aren't like the ones in the movies. A blow to the head is sure to knock them down, but until all their bones are broken: they won't stay dead.

Pulping is also a very bloody task.

 _Very_ bloody.

I had just finished smashing the last of the zombified victims that had attacked me a moment ago and paused to catch my breath. Only then did I notice how unsightly the room has become. To sum it all up in a single word.

_Gory._

Everything in the room had been splattered a dark red. _Everything._

The table? Dripping. The chairs? Stained—all of them. The floor? Liquid carpet. The drapes? Soaked. The celling? Yep, got that too! Not to mention walls!

I had succeeded in decorating the dining room like the inside of a slaughterhouse within the span of five minutes. I don't feel so hungry anymore.


	9. Credit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When the Cataclysm swept across the globe and consumed the world in a span of five days, I was one of the few that were fortunate enough to survive.
> 
> These are some of my tales.

With the whole world having gone to hell, I find it rather funny that ATMs are one of the few appliances still working. And vending machines. Both contraptions willing to happily accept any and all credit cards I may find lying around.

The majority of which; I don't exactly use for their intended purpose.

I really only need one card when making transactions. All others I use for the feathers on arrows, or things that need a chunk of plastic soldered back on.

On the bright side; I've been able to clear my debt and then some!

I have now made it one of my many subgoals to attain a million dollars in credit. It won't be easy. And I'm basically starting from scratch. These cards aren't as abundant as other items either.

My last deposit states that I now have a balance of twenty-seven hundred dollars. Not much, but better than owing about five hundred bucks.


	10. Photography

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When the Cataclysm swept across the globe and consumed the world in a span of five days, I was one of the few that were fortunate enough to survive.
> 
> These are some of my tales.

Steady.

Just a few more steps.

_Click._

"Graaahhh!"

I duck to the left, dodging the runner's swipe and thrust my spear into its chest. The zombie drops heavily to the ground with a quiet groan. I withdraw my weapon and glance down at my phone.

The close-up of the recently-deceased-sprinter is quite exceptional if I do say so myself. No blurry lines. Picture vertical to capture the creature as a whole. Said creature centered in the photo. And the lighting is not too bright, nor too dark.

I take a quick peek over my shoulders to make sure nothing is sneaking up on me then turn back to my phone. I upload the five new pictures to the SD card, then remove the card and insert it in my e-ink tablet. I download the photos and sort them into the 'Monsters' category, adding a little snippet of information to each one.

Zombie Runner; This recently-risen body moves quickly, darting its head back and forth and gnawing at its hands.

Anklebiter; This horrifying little mutated wretch looks to have once been a child, but its massive gaping jaws are now far more suggestive of a predatory beast.

Rot-weiler; An acrid smell accompanies this canine corpse. Its whole body is covered in chains of pulsing cysts and slime-dribbling ulcers.

Brown Chick; A tiny yellow and brown chick, it could be from a number of different species.

Decayed Zombie; A once-dead human corpse. Its discolored swollen flesh is riddled with festering wounds and open sores.

I tuck my phone into my pocket and check my surroundings again. Deeming the area safe, I raise my spear into the air and bring it swiftly down on the corpse, smashing its skull. I repeat the action, striking every part of the body. The cracking and squelching and acrid stench make me feel like puking, but I tough it out and finish the job.

No point in leaving it to rise up and kill the foxes again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yesterday, I ran into a mob of about fifteen zombies chasing a single fox on my way back to my movie theater base.
> 
> My mutant was a little weary from raiding the office tower up north, but he still had enough energy to slaughter 'em all and save the fox. Didn't have anything to catch it in though.
> 
> Then, when I'm about a block away from home, I spot a rotten fox corpse by one of houses. Different fox, but still...
> 
> Damn zombies will kill anything and everything they can get their hands on and sink their teeth in.


	11. Basement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When the Cataclysm swept across the globe and consumed the world in a span of five days, I was one of the few that were fortunate enough to survive.
> 
> These are some of my tales.

Second basement. Same layout. Worse infestation.

Much worse.

Not only did I have to kill a couple cockroaches up stairs just to get down here, but nearly every roach was giant. And I don't mean the pre-Cataclysm kind of big either. These things are the size of a freaking basset hound! That's even bigger than the ones in the other basement!

And the smell. Oh god, the _smell_.

I had to wear my filter mask just to breath down there! That was after I took a quick break in order to vomit outside. I didn't think the stench of decay could smell better than mutant roach crap, but, yeah… It does…

I don't know why I thought it necessary to even _think_ of going back down there, but I went regardless.

It also proved quite impossible to walk around down there—let alone kill a ton of mutated insects—without stepping in a pile of roach dirt. Or eggs, if that crunching sound means what I think it means. I might also be inclined to believe that there really is a god if manage to get the stink out of my clothes, off my skin, and off my tongue.

I'm still not sure what I'm going do with a few bottles of motor oil and some other chemicals, but I'll have them if I need them.

Not sure why I bothered to grab all thirty-one eggs that were left, either… Is 'Cockroach Farmer' even a occupation?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is hands down the grossest encounter I've had with those roaches. There were at least sixteen pregnant ones, maybe three giant ones, ten huge ones, and about thirty-some nymphs (babies the size of rats, two spawn from each mother killed). _And poop everywhere._ Nearly every tile had about seven to nine units of crap, and one or two eggs.
> 
> Brought everything back to the base and laid out every single egg to hatch. If my character survives, they really will be a roach farmer, lol.


	12. Solar-Powered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When the Cataclysm swept across the globe and consumed the world in a span of five days, I was one of the few that were fortunate enough to survive.
> 
> These are some of my tales.

With the weather warming up in preparation for the coming summer, things once frozen had begun to gradually thaw. It became clear to me that I needed a way to preserve my stock for the perceivable future; least things spoil in a matter of days—if not hours.

I started off by building a smoking rack out back as well as a primitive, yet simple, charcoal kiln. In this way I would be able to smoke—and even dehydrate—meats, vegetables, and fruits.

But there is something else I had in mind. Something I though of after passing a wreck on the road to town. And that is: to build a solar–powered freezer.

I spent some time brushing up on both electrical and mechanical engineering beforehand. When I felt ready, I grabbed my tools and a couple books, and headed out to the crash site.

Some of the solar panels were too damaged to be of any use. Some, but not all. Removing the boards turned out to be far easier than I originally thought. I simply cut through the clamps holding the frame the solar cell is set in with my hacksaw and; voila! It's practically free! All I had to do after that was snip the cable.

I brought the panel back and ventured out again, this time a little bit farther. I checked each vehicle I passed for a battery. A storage battery, bigger than the normal car batteries I'm seeing.

I found my target item in a garage. I unhooked the wires and returned home, object in hand.

I consulted my books for a bit of guidance in stripping a portion of the cords and then fitting them with a new head. One that is capable of attaching to the new storage unit. I waisted no time in hooking the battery to the mini–freezer I retrieved from a park (It used to be an ice cream trunk). And a dashboard served as the control unit to turn the freezer on and off.

When it was all assembled, I crossed my fingers and flicked on the switch. A hum sounded and the inside light signaled my success. I stood back to admire my handiwork.

For someone who knows next to nothing about electronics and machines, I like to think I did a not–to–shabby job.

Although, it still took me a few days to notice the leak in the battery…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Edit: I rewrote this chapter after writing Meat. Compared to that one, the original just fell a little flat.


	13. Religion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When the Cataclysm swept across the globe and consumed the world in a span of five days, I was one of the few that were fortunate enough to survive.
> 
> These are some of my tales.

"You look hungry friend. So much hunger in this world. This is the time of the eaters."

"Uh, hello… Who are the eaters?"

"The great eaters have returned, along with the false ones. We must feed the eaters and destroy the pretenders child."

"Who are you talking about?"

"This Cataclysm has awoken the great eaters, lost in time, returned them to the world to do their great work, to multiply and fill the land with their song. The time of man is over, but we few who remain can do our part to protect this new world from the pretenders, who would steal the meat."

"Who are the great eaters and the pretenders?"

"The great eaters are the ones that were lost, what we call dinosaurs whose meat we took and are taking it back. The pretenders are those who have come to steal the meat of this world. It does not belong to them and we will take it back from their mouths."

"Okay, so you worship dinosaurs. Understood."

"The Swampers knew these times would return and we prepared for them. When others wasted their time and meat, we fed and grew strong, and filled our stores with meat for this day."

"You keep talking about meat. Why is meat so important?"

"The meat makes the great eaters strong. We gather the meat and feed them, and in the end we too will serve the eaters in death as we do in life. This was always our purpose and we lucky few have lived to see it."

"Our purpose? How do you know?"

"The return of the great eaters was foretold by a prophet. We faithful have been waiting and preparing since the revelation."

"I guess it must be nice to be proven right."

"You understand our purpose. I welcome you to this work, all are needed to feed the eaters."

Not quite what I expected but, "Thank you," I tell him.

It wasn't my intention to join a group of dino-worshipers, but… Heck, why not? In for a penny, in for pound and all that, right?

"So, is there a way I can help feed the eaters?"

"The eaters are hungry. They need meat."

"I'm listening."

"If you are ready to be of service to the great eaters, go and find meat and bring it back. There is always need for more."

"Happy to be of service to the great eaters. I'm in."

"Excellent. Make it happen."

"Where should I start?"

"The great eaters are not picky, any pure meat will do, but mutant meat and tainted meat are not good enough."

"So, meat from a creature that isn't a zombie, or a giant monster. Got it."

And with that, I turn and leave the church to gather some meat.


	14. Spellcraft

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When the Cataclysm swept across the globe and consumed the world in a span of five days, I was one of the few that were fortunate enough to survive.
> 
> These are some of my tales.

I've never been interested in learning magic before the Cataclysm, but now seems like a great chance to give it a whirl.

The Academy For Young Scholars proved a great place to start. Inside I found a tome entitled _'Introduction To The Divine'_. It contained the basics of three different spells: Cure Light Wounds, Binding Flash, and Bless.

Of course the first arcane art I wanted to learn was the healing one. The ability to rejuvenate injuries—even minor ones—is one heck of way to utilize mana energy!

The spell is listed as Biomancy:  
_"The Biomancer focuses on manipulating and even absorbing flesh; their own, and that of other living or dead things. Most other wizards find their powers gross and disturbing, but no one can question the potency of their abilities, and certainly not their adaptability to any situation."_

Opposing class, Druid:  
_"Druids follow a wild tradition of allegiance and rebirth within the world of nature, especially the cycle of death and rebirth that is the plant world. A powerful druid is as much a part of that world as the human one."_

I made up my mind in an instant; biomancer all the way, baby! Let those triffid-huggers be druids.

I spent hours pouring over the ins and outs of the simple incantation the moment I arrived home. I was too enthralled in my studies to notice my growing hunger, or the rising sun, or Matthew reading over my shoulder.

The second I finish, I spring up from the chair, leaving the book in my place. I loosen my scarf, and remove my gloves since this particular craft is verbal, somatic, and impeded by handwear. I toss the pair of leathers on the book and move to the center of the room (mobility being the last condition).

Matthew stood by and watched as I performed the healing art.

"Healing!" I shout, and clap my hands together. My skin prickles and tingles around my bruises. I glance down at my arms, Matthew coming over to inspect my handiwork as well.

"Hey, it worked!" He chirped, turning both my arms over to double-check. "Maybe I should read that book."


	15. Meat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When the Cataclysm swept across the globe and consumed the world in a span of five days, I was one of the few that were fortunate enough to survive.
> 
> These are some of my tales.

While walking about the silence of the town, I stumbled upon a rather opportunistic scene: A mini–horde of undead chasing a brown and magenta four–legged juvenile. The young prehistoric herbivore is already severely injured from the zombie excursion, so finishing it off would be a mercy. And as CEO, Baronyx, would say, _"It too, shall serve the great eaters in death."_

So, without hesitation: I intervened.

My spear proved more than capable of handling the half–a–dozen walkers shambling after their prey. I pulped each one and took whatever I deemed valuable from their bodies, then turned my weapon on the immature dinosaur.

I took a moment to catch my breath—as well as shove down the feeling of guilt—before hulling the corpse back home. In hindsight, it would have been quicker and easier if I had simply field dressed it first… But, then I would have had to return for the organs, so… I guess I made the right call after all.

Suspending a large animal in a tree is not as easy as it looks. Especially when said animal weighs more than the average moose. But I managed regardless.

I retreated to the house to grab a few essentials before beginning.

Butchering kit. Check.

Saw. Check.

Radio. Check.

I threw my hair in a braid and returned to the remains outside. I placed the radio off to the side and turned it on, classical-jazz playing through the speakers. The tools were set down within reach.

Gralloching came first. I cut the flesh from throat to tail, just enough to split the thick hide. Next I made an incision in the thin membrane of the abdominal cavity to scoop out the organs. I don't think I'll ever get used to reaching inside of a once–living creature and pulling their entrails out. The things one does for survival.

I stopped and frowned. I forgot to separate the rim from the rest of the body. It only takes me a few strokes to free up the rectum (I can thank _'The Big Book Of First Aid'_ by, C. Red, for all these clinical terms). I sever the strands of tissue holding the organs to the body and let them plop down on the plastic sheet laid out beneath the young dino.

Step two: skinning. A lot of scoring goes into this part. And strength. I mark around the ankles and slit the pelt to the base of the tail, connecting the cut to the first. I repeat the same technique on the other three legs too. The rest is mostly peeling and slicing the skin away as a whole. The head was promptly removed.

At this point I had to take a quick break to catch my breath before continuing.

With my second wind, I picked up the saw and got to work on those ribs, cutting them free and setting them aside. I traded the serrated tool for a blade and took some sizable chops from the legs, tail, back, and neck. I also salvaged as many scraps as I could.

The entire process totaled over an hour and multiple trips were made to the freezer for all this meat. A tiny portion of which I delivered to the CEO; Bo Baronyx.

My _'reward'_ for services rendered, came in the form of a small eoraptor named, Bamm-bamm.

Matthew was _not_ pleased.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me start off by saying that: I never meant for _any_ of these chapters to be this long. Or reference other chapters.
> 
> But what can ya do? The stories go where the stories go.
> 
> With that said, I feel like rewriting Solar-Powered. Compared to this one, that chapter just falls a little flat.
> 
> *Edit: I just rewrote the chapter right after finishing this one.


	16. Shopping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When the Cataclysm swept across the globe and consumed the world in a span of five days, I was one of the few that were fortunate enough to survive.
> 
> These are some of my tales.

The raid on the grocery store was a total bust. Everything has already been taken. Well, with the exception of a few empty bottles, broken glass, and destroyed shelves that is. And a lone shopping cart missing a caster.

The wire basket looked to be in perfect condition. And the loss of a wheel isn't all that serious. Not wanting to waste the opportunity, I towed the cart along behind me. The lightweight frame remained level and the disks made little noise.

The first test for my new method of loot transportation: Vegetables!

There is a greenhouse right next the store I stopped at full of vegetables. And what better way to transport every article than an actual shopping cart?

I slide open the glass door and pull the wire carrier inside with me.

Zucchini, pumpkin, cabbage, carrots, tomatoes, and even chamomile, had all been planted. Each one ready for harvest too. So into the cart they went, along with the leftover seeds. This amount of food would normally entail a quick run home before continuing, but now I can quadruple my plunder and shorten my returns.

Feeling ecstatic about such a lucky find, I ventured farther into town.


	17. Electrohack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When the Cataclysm swept across the globe and consumed the world in a span of five days, I was one of the few that were fortunate enough to survive.
> 
> These are some of my tales.

"Hmm…" I tap my chin, then reach into my pocket and pull out a pencil and slip of paper.

_Plastic Mold  
Solar Panels  
Fertilizer  
Ammo_

I add 'Electrohack' to the list.

With the way technology has dominated the world before Armageddon, I'm surprised I haven't gotten one sooner. Then again, electronic hacking tools aren't exactly sold in stores for the general public.

…Perhaps I can make one?

I return the list and pencil to my pocket and exit the ground floor of the lab.

It took _days_ to find a book that contained the blueprints for an electrohack. The library I got the book in is in a city two towns over.

Plenty of opportunities here. And plenty of monsters.

I killed just enough to clear a small path to the building, and then a few stragglers that happened to catch wind of me on the way back.

With a third of the library in my cart—plus a few other items—I'm sure I'll be making a little more than just an electronic hacker when I get back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna lie, this damn book took forever to find. I spent at least two weeks in-game looking for it! And a library.
> 
> Neither one had spawned in my starting town.


	18. Iridescent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When the Cataclysm swept across the globe and consumed the world in a span of five days, I was one of the few that were fortunate enough to survive.
> 
> These are some of my tales.

Just about anything that moves can get me to stop dead in my tracks nowadays. What with ninety–nine percent of the population turned into flesh–eating monstrosities. But, rarely is it because of something living.

 _And_ mutated into something even more beautiful than before.

This encounter is one of those happenstances.

They were playing out in the open field, batting at a lone dandelion. The flashing of color is what caught my eye and alerted me to their movement. I paused, weapon at the ready, and crept closer.

The sight was so alluring I just had to stop and watch the two play. The color of their fur shifted unnaturally in the afternoon light with their every movement. It was impossible to make out the breed; their fur patterns kept changing with each step.

I made up my mind right then and there: _'I'm taking them home.'_

I put my hastily–made plan into action, stepping towards the silvery felines, and corralling them in the direction of the house. As they drew near I gave them a wide berth, and opened the door.

Matthew is still sound asleep so I don't have to worry about telling him what I'm doing.

I walked back around the cats and shooed them to the open door. It did not go quite as I thought it would, as the iridescent beauties keep darting around the side of the house, and I had to chase them back to the front.

After finally herding both inside, I shut the door. I hurry to the kitchen and grab a couple cans of cat food from the attached storage room and return to the frightened mutants cowering on the sofa.

I open the cans and scoop the mush into a couple bowls. The very sight of the food seem to calm the two. I approached cautiously, not wanting to scare them away, and set the bowls on the other end of the couch. I stepped back and watched them sniff their way to the bowls. The second the prismatic critters realized what this smell meant, they quickly devoured every bite.

They looked to me and mewed for more.

"What the hell are those?"

All three of us turn to Matthew, now standing in the bedroom doorway.

"Morning, Matthew. This one is Shimmer, and this one is Gleam. They're ours now."

"The fuck!?" Matthew scowls, "We already have a damn dinosaur! What do you need those furballs for?"

…Maybe Matthew is a dog person…?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have never ever, ever, _ever_ seen an iridescent cat in the game before, but, holy sheep! They really do change colors if you have the animations on!
> 
> They change different shades of gray and silver, and sometimes they have tabby markings. Other times they're a solid color.
> 
> My character had broken both legs beforehand, saving the dog from jumping into the fire I lit in the stove. So chasing down the cats took over two days... Fun times!
> 
> Unfortunately, that character was murdered by a zombified dinosaur shortly after catching both cats...
> 
> Fingers crossed in hopes of finding more!


	19. Blueprint

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When the Cataclysm swept across the globe and consumed the world in a span of five days, I was one of the few that were fortunate enough to survive.
> 
> These are some of my tales.

I knew the moment I stepped inside, that this is a wizards' house. I can feel the magical energy in the air—not to mention the large mana crystal in the back yard, or the scrolls on the shelves.

I didn't think too much about the witchcraft I looted from the building. I was more excited about finding a working car and welding rig in the basement.

I left with my cart full of spoils from the raid and a plan to return for the welder.

Matthew helped with the sorting when I arrived home, putting everything in its place.

"Holy shi–! Hey, come take a look at this!" Matthew suddenly waves me over rather enthusiastically.

I set the last of the food down on the counter and padded over to him, where he practically shoves the blueprint I found in my face.

"This thing is a scroll to summon a motorcycle!"

"Really? You sure?" I grab the paper, adjusting the angle for a better look.

Sure enough; the MICE(R) blueprint not only details the schematics for a motorcycle—that is somehow simultaneously obviously impossible and yet intriguingly intuitive—is indeed a conjuring technique listed as technomancy. In one margin, the word 'Mojocycle' had been scrawled in a flowing hand.

"I am _so_ learning this one." Matthew states.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Manafied Infernal Combustion Engine (Rideable)
> 
> I _LOVE_ this thing! Seriously, who wouldn't want the ability to summon a fully-working motorcycle wherever and whenever they want?
> 
> As a side-note: I don't know if you can teach NPCs spells or not. If I could, then there is absolutely no way in hell I'm teaching them any kind of fire-based techniques. Ever.


	20. Metalworking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When the Cataclysm swept across the globe and consumed the world in a span of five days, I was one of the few that were fortunate enough to survive.
> 
> These are some of my tales.

Near the start of this Cataclysm, I happened to come across a metalworking chisel in a craftshop. Today, I finally managed to scrape together all the materials I need to make an anvil.

I spent hours hammering the wad of steel into a smooth workable shape. It was hard work and required more than one break. After two days, I had finished my little project.

I immediately put the anvil to use forging a steel spear. With all the super–evolved zombies roaming around out there, having a stronger, more durable, weapon is a priority.

Another two days had gone by resulting in a sturdy weapon to replace my old halfpike. This spear is heavier and longer than the other, but it is also stronger and more durable. I felt a sense of pride swell up in my chest for a job more–or–less well done.

Before retiring for the evening for some much needed rest, I sewed a strap together for my new weapon. After all, there are going to be plenty more times where I need my hands free out there.


	21. Subway

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When the Cataclysm swept across the globe and consumed the world in a span of five days, I was one of the few that were fortunate enough to survive.
> 
> These are some of my tales.

I pack the extra bandages I have just boiled and load six bullets into my Remington 1100 competition. I grab my steel spear and adjust the strap, then sling it over my shoulder.

"Heading out?" Matthew inquires from the doorway.

"Yeah. Heard some noises coming from the tunnels below the subway station. I thought I'd take a look."

"Oh? What kind of noises?"

"It sounded human,"—I pause briefly, then continue—"but, something was off. The conversation didn't add up."

Matthew shifts his weight to his other side, "Want me to come with?"

"No. Thanks."

"Keep an eye on things here, then?"

"Keep an eye on things here."

I double check my supplies and shotgun, tucking extra ammo into my pocket, then leave for the station.

  


* * *

  


The subway is dark and cool. Silent, aside from the human mimicry I can hear deeper in the void. My natural night vision allows for me to see farther than most in this situation. A trait I'm relying on to spot my quarry before they can get the drop on me.

"Can you swim?"

I stalk cautiously into the waiting shadows. Gun at the ready, I keep my eyes peeled for any signs of movement as I draw closer to the sounds.

"Hello?"

The putrid stench of rotting corpses drifts up to great me. Zombies. They're already dead. The bodies too mangled to resurrect. I step closer for a better look.

"What did you do with my mommy?"

Deep scratches and punctures riddled the decaying victims. Whatever did this is most decidedly _not_ human.

"I watched a snail crawl along the edge of a straight razor."

I rise and creep closer to the wall on my left. Just close enough to keep it in sight.

"I've got family coming tomorrow."

I bypass the warm resin walls I discovered on my first trip down here. There is an other–worldly creature milling about inside. It didn't seem to care for my presence when I first saw it. But it sure was an eye–opener.

There is some sort of dimensional rift within those walls as well. Red and glowing bright. I'm still not sure what that tear in reality could possibly mean. But it felt as though I was looking into another world when I saw it: A world more dangerous than this one. And full of evil, unspoken, horrors.

"WOOF!"

The sounds are closer now. Much closer.

I flinch at the sudden hysterical laughter and pull a pair of earplugs from my pocket. I plug my ears and drown out the noise, deafening myself to everything around me.

The silence is rather daunting. Without the ability to hear, it is impossible to tell how close I am to whatever is miming those words. But, I push my anxiety down continue on.

Two steps. Five steps. Eleven.

Movement.

I bring the butt of my Remington to my shoulder and squeeze off a shot just as a dull, pink, form emerges from the darkness. The atrocious creature reeled back from the pain, then darted forward intent on murdering its attacker.

I pump the fore–end, chambering another round in the barrel and fire again. The cow–sized alienoid flails its multiple pairs of appendages, slowing its advance towards me. I fired again. The third bullet forcing the shapeless being to turn tail and flee.

Without hesitation, I lurch forward and fire another shot into the retreating monster. It drops heavily to the ground, twitching twice, before lying motionless on the train tracks.

I exhale a slow shuddering breath. The mere sight of the hideous pink creature had disturbed me greatly, for reasons I simply cannot fathom. Even as the unnatural beast lies dead before me, simply looking at it fills me with a sense primordial dread.

There are numerous pairs of limbs on its seemingly–formless body, and there is a pair of ribbed, membranous wings which seem to be quite useless on its back. Its odd, vaguely pyramid–shaped head bristles with a multitude of antennae. Grey fluid flows freely from the open wounds, the smell reminiscent of blood, but more pungent.

I remove one of the earplugs, letting it dangle from the attached string. The uncoordinated sentences are still present.

"Hey kids. Want some candy?"

The voice is close. Quickly, I reload my Remington with four more shots and stuff the plug back in my ear.

The second alien lurched from the shadows just as I cocked my shotgun. My pulse spiked again, but there wasn't time to think about the fear these nightmares can instill with a single glance. I shouldered the gunstock and squeezed the trigger. The pink beast jerked from the impact of the bullet, then again from the second. It retreated from the third. I was about to give chase, but another extraterrestrial showed itself forcing my attention to it.

My shot rang true and the aggressive creature slowed after being struck twice. I back–pedaled a few steps to load in one extra shell. The pink atrocity drew closer, almost uncertain of its decision. Its choice in staying resulted in its death with two more quick shots.

I again, removed one of the rubber stopples and let it hang. I listened the aliens' mimicry as I reloaded my gun with all six rounds.

"How was your trip?"

The voice is distant and I nearly laughed, despite the cold chill I felt. I could just imagine their injured buddy scurrying past and one of them asking it that.

"Only a few more days 'til the weekend."

I make my way deeper into the tunnel. A line of grey liquid paints a trail across the rock floor. I let it lead me in the direction of the wounded crustacean–like alien.

"That creepy abandoned post–apocalyptic lab complex looks safe…"

 _'I rather doubt that,'_ though, I refrain from voicing my answer aloud.

"That fuckin' thing is horrible, man, it gives me the creeps."

_'Well that's the pot calling the kettle black…'_

"I got a round trip ticket."

I replace the rubber nub back into my ear yet again and ease my already slowed pace.

Two appear before me this time. I bring my Remington 1100 up and pop off a shot into both monsters. A third shoves past its companions and into the fray. I back up as I take the shot, wounding that one as well. All three advance on me, forcing me to put more distance between me and them.

I fire at the nearest alien, step back a pace, and load in a single round—there's no time for more than that. I blast the next as it draws a little closer than expected then withdraw another couple of steps to load another bullet.

Unexpectedly, a _fourth_ one materializes from the side and lunges in for a taste. I manage to slow it down with the same lead kiss from my Remington. I turn my gun on the first one to attack, forcing it to run away from the group.

I, too, make a hasty retreat back the way I came. I used the time to reload at least two shells and aim. The fourth—and healthiest of the bunch—burst from the darkness in a rage, but I was faster. I quelled its temper with three successful rounds; killing it before the other two came into view.

I flee again, intent on keeping them out of striking range. I ran farther than probably needed, then fulled–loaded my gun. Hesitantly, I crept back through the silence to meet my game. I shouldered my shotgun and downed the first with two quick shots. The second closed the gap between us, but tried to escape after the third injury. I didn't give it the chance to run.

I dig out more bullets from my dwindling supply and load them into my competition shooter. I can hear the blood pumping in my ears from the excursion. And fear. Why do these creatures frighten me so? I shake my head in an attempt to clear it before I go any further.

The smoky scent of gunpowder is thick in the confined space of the underground. It is enough to overpower the putrid smell of extraterrestrial blood and rotting dead. With a tremble in my hand, I take out the earbuds and leave them dangling around my neck. I inhale deeply and exhale slowly, calming my racing heart and listening for any more pink mimics.

Silence.

I lick my dry lips, then start down the subway once more.

I trail the streaks of hemolymph to one of the alien corpses. I ignore the anxiety worming its way up my spine and count the holes in the body. One. Two. Three in total. This is one of the ones that got away. I followed the next grey stripe, hoping for similar results.

The silence breaks as a rasping growl sounds in the void. It made my hair stand on end and my blood run cold. Is there something else down here? I remain completely still, breathing short and quick, eyes darting around the darkness ahead.

A beat. And then—

"Shows a noted preference for human brain tissue."

My breath hitched unintentionally. At least one more. I swallow thickly and stalk deeper into the black void of the underground channel.

"TEKELI–LI! TEKELI–LI! TEKELI–LI!"

Closer. The blood trail I'm following is starting to thin.

"Requesting human officer!"

I stop and check the nearby body. Three deep wounds. Both horrid, pink, monstrosities accounted for.

"You think they're the same sex?"

Even closer.

"Time to play!"

I stuffed the rubber nubs back in and shouldered my Remington. The large pink alien didn't waste any time lunging for me. One shot. The pink crustacean–like monster flinched. Two. It stopped its advance seeming wary of me. Three. The creature turned to run. Four. And it fell in a heap on the floor. I loaded four rounds and pumped the fore–end. Eight shells left.

I removed a bud and listened.

Silence and my own breathing is all I could hear. Nothing else stirred. No movement could be seen.

I waited.

Then ventured further down the pitch–black pathway.

I'm not entirely sure how far I walked, but I figured it would be far enough. I didn't hear a thing as I made my way slowly back the entrance of the station. I stooped to pick up the empty shotgun hulls along the way.

This is going to be quite the story to tell Matthew if I make it back in one piece.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My creative streak finally died... But! Here is the next chapter!
> 
> I figured since now that this young survivor has a steel spear, I'd throw is in. Yes, I'm well aware they don't use it at all in this chapter, but this is how it played out a year ago with Johnny 'Smart' Ransom.
> 
> He's the first character I had that managed to survive an entire month. Also the first to stalk and kill _eight_ Mi–goes in the pitch–black of the subway tunnels with just a shotgun.
> 
> It was the most intense walk–in–the–dark ever! And he survived it without so much as a scratch!
> 
> R.I.P. Johnny, you were one heck of a survivor.


	22. Contact

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When the Cataclysm swept across the globe and consumed the world in a span of five days, I was one of the few that were fortunate enough to survive.
> 
> These are some of my tales.

The windows had all been smashed in. One of the doors are broken and jammed, preventing it from opening. And there is graffiti on the walls.

_Abandon hope, all ye who enter here._

_Cataclysm Bus Stop_

_BIGGEST WASTE OF TAX MONEY FUCK YOU GOVERMINT_

I take a moment to admire a simple drawing of a skinny figure wearing an emergency jacket and a gas mask with the words, _'Thanks for the outfit'_ , scrawled beneath the picture, then shove open the other door.

It's quiet inside, as most buildings are. I tug my cart in with me and leave it by the door. Miscellaneous objects litter the floor and benches. I open each locker I pass, some containing a few items of interest, others are empty.

I make my way to the lit computer screen in the corner of the shelter. It appears functional. I tap the Enter key and the monitor darkens, displaying green text.

**Logging into Evac shelter computer…**  
**Login successful. Press any key…**

I hit the Enter button again.

**Evac shelter computer – Root Menu  
**1 Emergency Message**  
**2 Disable External Power**  
**3 Contact Us****

I Immediately press 3. The console screen brings up a pre–recorded message.

**SEARCHING FOR NEAREST REFUGEE CENTER, PLEASE WAIT…**

**REFUGEE CENTER FOUND! — LOCATION: 49 W**

**IF YOU HAVE ANY FEEDBACK CONCERNING YOUR VISIT PLEASE CONTACT THE DEPARTMENT OF EMERGENCY MANAGEMENT PUBLIC AFFAIRS OFFICE. THE LOCAL OFFICE CAN BE REACHED BETWEEN THE HOURS OF 9AM AND 4PM AT 555–0164.**

**IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO SPEAK WITH SOMEONE IN PERSON OR WOULD LIKE TO WRITE US A LETTER PLEASE SEND IT TO** — 

—I strike Backspace, ignoring the rest of the message. The computer brings me back to the root menu and I select option 1. 

**GREETINGS CITIZEN. A BIOLOGICAL ATTACK HAS TAKEN PLACE AND A STATE OF EMERGENCY HAS BEEN DECLARED. EMERGENCY PERSONNEL WILL BE AIDING YOU SHORTLY. TO ENSURE YOUR SAFETY PLEASE FOLLOW THE STEPS BELOW.**

**1\. DO NOT PANIC.**  
**2\. REMAIN INSIDE THE BUILDING.**  
**3\. SEEK SHELTER INSIDE THE BASEMENT.**  
**4\. USE PROVIDED GAS MASKS.**  
**5\. AWAIT FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS.**

**Press any key to continue…**

I hit Backspace again. The display returns to the menu and I click 2 out of curiosity. In red letters the display shows the words, **ACCESS DENIED**. Not seeing anything more I can do, I pull out my notebook and pencil, marking down the location of the Refugee Center. I store the items back in my pocket and begin looting the top level of the shelter. 


	23. Discobolus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When the Cataclysm swept across the globe and consumed the world in a span of five days, I was one of the few that were fortunate enough to survive.
> 
> These are some of my tales.

Having a good aim when firing a gun is one. It's another altogether when it comes to throwing by hand.

So, when Matthew inquired about the explosives I was making from some match head powder, I figured that now would an excellent time to read _Diskobolus_.

The book describes the basic forms for throwing a discus—an item akin to a weighted frisbee.

_"The thrower typically takes an initial stance facing away from the direction of the throw. He then spins anticlockwise (for right-handers) around one and a half times through the circle to build momentum, then releases his throw."_

_"The basic motion is a fore-handed sidearm movement. The discus is spun off the index finger or the middle finger of the throwing hand. In flight the disc spins clockwise when viewed from above for a right-handed thrower, and anticlockwise for a left-handed thrower. As well as achieving maximum momentum in the discus on throwing, the discus' distance is also determined by the trajectory the thrower imparts, as well as the aerodynamic behavior of the discus. Generally, throws into a moderate headwind achieve the maximum distance. Also, a faster-spinning discus imparts greater gyroscopic stability."_

Matthew and I used rocks to practice with. We set up a few heavy sticks along the treeline to use as targets, and attempted to mimic the actions described in the manual.

It didn't go too well, but, at the end of the day, we started hitting the target more often than not at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this because Throwing is usually the first ranged skill I raise. But also because one of the recent updates prevented my snooty NPC from gaining any experience from a hands-on lesson. Her Fabrication skill was 0 and after wasting half an hour making match head powder, I had to spend almost three fucking hours reading to her just to get her to level one.
> 
> The stuff in quoted italics I copied from Wikipedia.


	24. Hatch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When the Cataclysm swept across the globe and consumed the world in a span of five days, I was one of the few that were fortunate enough to survive.
> 
> These are some of my tales.

"Matthew?"

"You need to see this."

The concern on Matthew's face is real. It prompted me to quickly rise from the armchair and follow him outside. He swiftly lead me over to the fenced enclosure called, The Hatchery.

The Hatchery contains all the different eggs we've collected and set aside to hatch out into little chicks. Or reptiles. Or even dinosaurs.

"Tell me we aren't keeping it." Matthew demanded as he came to a halt by the gate. He thrust his finger out, pointing at a large brown creature that came bounding towards us. It stopped at the fence and swiped at us with long claws.

"An owlbear?"

I think back to the warm rock I picked up at The Academy For Young Scholars. And the _'Dungeon Master's Guide: 6th Edition'_ book that describes an owlbear.  
_"A monstrous cross between giant owl and bear, an owlbear’s reputation for ferocity and aggression makes it one of the most feared predators of the wild. Owlbears are monstrous beasts with the bodies of bears covered in thick fur and feathers. Their heads are like those of owls, but with a serrated beak. "_

"Tell me we aren't keeping it." Matthew ground out a tad slower.

"Leave it to me, Matthew. I'll take care of it." I turn and stride back into the house.

"I hope that means what I think it means!" Matthew hollers after me.

I return—much to Matthew's dismay—with food. Cat and dog food to be exact (Owlbears are carnivorous).

"Have you lost your fucking mind!? That thing can't be tamed! It's a monster! And it's not staying here!"

"It's just a baby, Matt," I pour some of the dry dog food in the bowl I brought out and held it over the fence. The newborn critter slapped the bowl out of my hand, scattering food everywhere, and scratching me in the process. I hastily withdraw my hand and cover the wound with a spare rag. The lacerations throb and I know they will need some stitches.

"A baby capable of ripping someone in half." Matthew growls and crosses his arms, scowling at the cub.

I tuck my injured hand under my arm and grab a handful of cat food with the other. I toss the dry kernels in the pen.

Much to our surprise, the young owlbear stops its attempts at attacking us and is drawn to the feed. It sniffs it, then tastes it, then hungrily gobbles it all down. The brown creature looks back at me and Matthew expectantly, wanting more.

Matthew looks to me, mouth agap. I look to Matthew and quirk an eyebrow.

"Ah, hell no! You can't expect to domesticate a wild animal just like that!"

"Not much different than Bamm–bamm; and he's a dinosaur."

Bamm–bamm—who is currently in the pen right next to The Hatchery—jumps joyfully at hearing his name mentioned.

Without waiting for Matthew's reply, I open the gate, releasing the large beast from its confinement.

"THE FUCK—!!!"

"Matt, wait—!"

Matthew jerks back from the opening and reaches for his sidearm. I hold up my hand to stop him. The owlbear lunges from the compact corral, tackling me to the ground. Matthew draws his Glock, aiming for the baby's head. I catch hold of the critter's soft downy coat. The beast stretches forward, then drops all its weight down on top of me, snuggling into my chest.

Matthew and I freeze.

The feathery beast licks me and butts its head against me affectionately.

I push the creature off and sit up. Matthew lowers his gun.

"See? Nothing to it." I pet the owlbear which in turn trills happily.

A string of expletives leaves Matthew's mouth, knowing full–well that that means we are _indeed_ keeping yet another man–eating monstrosity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just an FYI: Owlbears can't be tamed without cheating. You have to go into the game's directory and add a flag to their info. I put 'catfood' for the cub and 'mountable' for the adult.


End file.
